Vulture's Row
by Turnabout Writer
Summary: Four angels in flight on an aircraft that takes off and soars high, but ultimately falls and comes crashing down the runway. This is how Pierce and Selena, and Sorin and Ellen fell in love. Pre-Turnabout Time Traveller. Pierce/Selena, Sorin/Ellen.
1. Above Ground Level

**Vulture's Row**

 ** _Vulture's Row_ – _a viewing gallery on an aircraft carrier's tower where a person may watch the operations on the flight deck._**

 **Four angels in flight** – **on an aircraft takes off and soars high, but ultimately falls and comes crashing down the runway. Pre-Turnabout Time Traveller. Selena/Pierce, Sorin/Ellen.**

 **Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for take off on this flight! ;)**

 ** ** ** ** ** ** **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is copyright © 2016 _Turnabout Writer_** **. All rights reserved.**************

 **1\. Above Ground Level**

 _ **Above Ground Level – the height measured with respect to the underlying ground surface.**_

 **Pierce and Selena**

He can hear her shrieks – _No, no, no! You can't do this_ – piercing through his mind and heart like is not sure if it's really her, or just a figment of his imagination embodying the words of his conscious. Since her death, he never really has been sure.

Pierce sighs to himself as he shuts the pocket watch close. The eager chatters around him begin to cease and he looks up to see the bride walking into the doorway of the reception hall.

His eyes flicker to Gloomsbury, who nods curtly at him.

 _It's time for the operation to begin._

Somewhere in the sky, he knows that Selena is crying in anguish.

.

"Excuse me, Miss," the man's voice calls out, as the she pushes the cart just a few feet past him.

She stops in her tracks, and turns her head around to face him, her azure eyes shining alight with humor as she smirks. "Yes, sir?" This is the 5th time in 3 hours that he has called for her – he already has a blanket and pillow, asked some water and snacks, and learned how to turn the air conditioning vent on and off from her. He is in Business Class right now, so surely he has nothing to complain about.

"Ah, um, you don't have to call me that." She waves at a flight attendant passing by, Maria, she recalls her name is, to take the cart away as he speaks. "I'm Pierce." He extends a hand out to her.

She frowns at him, but shakes his hand regardless. "Sir, I don't think it would be proper for me to – "

"Alright." He sighs. "Then call me Dr. Nichody. Surely that wouldn't be improper, no?"

Dr. _Nichody? Hmmm . . ._ Her father has always told her to be wary of those arrogant enough to use their official title where unnecessary, as the future president of Sprocket Aviation.

This man could have introduced himself as Mr. Nichody, but chose to use Dr. Nichody. His use of his title bears no relevance to their current conversation, and it isn't as if he is trying to network with her, or try to point out to her that he is a doctor . . . unless, he recognizes her, and that is the reason why he keeps trying to initiate conversation.

"A doctor, huh?" she finds herself murmuring to herself. What good would it do a doctor to network with her, if he has made no move to identify who she truly is?

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "Um, yes . . . I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that," he adds, smiling sheepishly at Selena, which makes her reevaluate her previous thought. He's humble enough to admit his error, it appears. "Force of habit – everyone calls me that now."

She nods in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted, Mr. Nichody." She tries to stop herself from smiling – he looks adorable when embarrassed. "Was there a specific reason why you called me over? Did you want tea, coffee . . . a drink?" she offers politely, knowing that Maria and the other flight attendants in the back are probably watching her and this man's interaction intently.

"No, thank you. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you," he answers honestly, a shy smile spreading across his face.

"You . . . wanted to talk to me?" She raises an eyebrow. "Well, then, make it worth my time, Mr. Nichody, or else I'll just have to leave," she threatens, a smirk playing on her lips.

He grins back haughtily – it throws her off a bit, and suddenly she isn't sure if she can determine Mr. Nichody's nature. "Then, I'll just call you back over."

"Mr. Nichody." She sighs. "I am a flight attendant, not a passenger traveling alongside you. I am working and there are others things I must attend to. Whatever you want to say to me, say it now, and make sure that it's important enough that a passing flight attendant won't think I'm standing here with a passenger who is only trying to flirt with me."

His eyes widen. "W-Well, I'm not exactly trying to flirt with you . . . I just want to get to know you."

"Mr. Nichody," she warns, beginning to take a step back from his seat and turn back the way she came from.

"Wait! Um . . ." He wracks his mind to come up with something, anything. "Oh! I've heard something about RAL Airlines not allowing for spreading of germs on their planes, and I believe that is simply not possible."

Her face twists humorously. "The aircrafts of RAL Airlines have installed an additional fan system that we call the Global Inset Director to minimize the spread of disease."

He raises an eyebrow. "An additional fan system?" he says incredulously. "I don't see how that helps keeps out the maligned germs that spread due to close contact or by breathing in the particles or droplets coughed or sneezed out fro – "

"Um, that's not a cause for concern with the fan-device, Mr. Nichody," she interrupts calmly, though she is tugging the bow tied around her neck uncomfortably – someone will overhear him and become concerned for their health, she is sure; and, frankly, she is starting to get a little disgusted. "And the avionics of this aircraft are top-notch, so I can assure you that system has been tested out and is effective."

"Hmm, I understand that you're bounded by your job to be biased – though it seems that the airline company has taught you quite a bit about the airplane, I'm still not convinced."

She shakes her head. "I sincerely can assure you that everything in this plan is the most advanced. I am one of the aviation engineers who helped design this plane three years ago." Granted, at the time, she was only interning for her father's company, but she was the one to come up with the idea of the fans. "These fans direct air into smaller spaces before reaching the filters, essentially redirecting any germ spread from other passengers."

Mr. Nichody is left speechless. Selena takes this moment to smirk arrogantly at him and turn on her heels to where the other flight attendants murmur and whisper to themselves.

.

When she walks out of the Gate with some of the flight attendants and the pilots, she sees him leaning against a nearby pillar, eyes burning into her.

She excuses herself from crew, and heads towards where he waits.

He hands her a scrunched up napkin – she recognizes the fancy RAL logo printed on it.

"What's this?"

"My number." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "I don't have any business cards on me – I didn't think I'd be giving out contact information on a trip to and from visiting my mother. Regardless, bifurcating our conversation has done nothing to help me capture the inflaming enigma that is you. You've left me curious, Miss Avionics, and I want to know as much as I can about you."

 _Miss Avionics?_ Is he being snarky or just praising her? "I'm hardly any interesting," she argues, though she silently shoves the napkin into her pocket, hoping that he won't notice.

"Quite the contrary. For instance, what drives an aviation engineer like you to become a flight attendant? You've helped built the planes, and, now, you serve passengers in them; RAL Airlines and Sprocket Aviation must love you, I'd wager."

She wants to correct him on his words – RAL Airlines is under Sprocket Aviation, but she bites her tongue and gives him a wry smile. "I am licensed to fly their planes, too, if that counts."

His eyes brows shoot to his forehead. "Really? You are a pilot, too? Man, why not hire you full-time, then?"

She smirks. "Well, it's only a matter of time before I dedicate my life to Sprocket Aviation, full-time."

"Full-time, huh? Are you only working part-time now?"

"I was, until a year ago, when I decided that I must go through as many jobs as possible in the company before taking it over." She purses her lips in thought, recalling all of the surprised comments she received from her decision – except for Sorin, of course, since he was the only one who understood her. "How else am I to understand my employees if I've never been in their positions before?"

"T-Taking over the company?"

At his open-mouthed gape, she giggles. "Uh, yeah. I, er, should have probably introduced myself, but it was hardly the appropriate place to do so before. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Nichody. I am Selena Sprocket." She extends her hand out for him to shake and smiles sheepishly at him.

"Y-You're Selena _Sprocket_?"

She shrugs with a small smile. "Um, the one and only?"

She can tell he is impressed by her humility as he firmly grips her hand. "Ah, I'm so sorry."

She isn't exactly sure what he is apologizing for, and she doesn't have the time to linger around any longer, so she just nods. "I must take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nichody." She releases his hand and gives him a friendly smile.

He only gives her a nod back, and it slightly unnerves her – she is usually so good at reading people (since, as the future head of Sprocket Aviation, she has to), but he throws her off so much that she cannot determine what kind of person he is.

"Oh, Miss Avionics?"

She blinks, snapping back to reality. "Yes?"

His eyes never leave hers as he speaks. "I'll be waiting for you to call."

.

It's not a few days later until she remembers him again, when her father asks her family if they know of any good doctor.

"What's wrong with the family doctor?"

"He's retiring." His mouth twists sourly. "Tch, what a waste to retire so early."

"A waste?" Selena hears her mother shriek, as she begins to lose herself in thought. "He's almost 70, dear!"

She vaguely hears him argues back, almost defensively. She would counter that in some way, but right now, her thoughts are drifting to her most interesting passenger from last week . . .

"Yes, but I'd work till my deathbed! You retire when you're close to dying! The retirement age was set in this country at the age it is at because the life expectan – "

"Er, I know a doctor," Selena speaks up, but her eyes widen in surprise at her own words. Her parents turn to her startled, most likely since they had forgotten her presence.

She doesn't know where that came from. She wasn't even going to suggest anything about him. Hell, she was going to tell her father that she knew no doctors. Why did she bring him up them?

Her father nods curtly. "Good. Call him and let me know tonight."

.

" _I'm flattered that I am the one who first came to mind, but I'm actually a surgeon, Miss Sprocket_." He laughs from the other line, and Selena realizes that she likes the sound of it.

"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise, slapping a palm to her temple. "I should have realized that you could have been another kind of doctor. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Nichody!"

" _It's no bother_ ," he assures sweetly. " _I've been waiting patiently for your call, anyway_."

And that is how their love takes flight.


	2. Waypoint

**Am I an absolutely horrible person for not updating this for the past year and a half? Yes, I am, no doubt. I didn't forget about it at all. It was just a bad case of writer's block and a corrupted word document and no drive to rewrite what I had lost from Chapter 2 - and then, when I did rewrite, it wasn't up to par with what I originally had. I had to have re-written this four times before I thought that maybe I should pull this story, or simply leave it as a Piece/Selena oneshot, change the summary, and mark it complete. But then I looked over the parts of the chapter I've written before making the decision, and I started writing the rest of the chapter. I thought to myself that I could finish this chapter after my final exams were done with - and now that I have been done with those, I'm also now done writing this chapter. I hope to complete this story by summer's end, since the last chapter is nearly complete, and I have a few more things to write for the third chapter. For this chapter, proofreading was done very quickly, so please excuse any glaring mistakes. I also got a little carried away with Selena and Ellen's first meeting here, but I wanted to include some specific elements from the case and felt that this was the best way to do it.**

 **Thank you for all of your love and support (that is, if I still have you readers and don't have you rightfully hating me for leaving you guys hanging). I won't leave you hanging any further, though. Without further ado, here is the second chapter of Vulture's Row.**

 **2\. Waypoint**

 _ **Waypoint – a point on the ground, predefined as a point of interest for the flight; a basic guidance mode, providing lateral guidance to a waypoint, either by course or by direct (operator selectable).**_

 **Ellen and Sorin**

She sniffles and wipes her nose with the tissue. "I miss my home!" she cries, tears rolling down her face.

It has not even been a full day at the Sprocket Manor, and she has been having the worse day of her life – to list a few mishaps, some dishes slipped from her gloves as she went to put them away, and the map of the grounds that she was to memorize caught on fire by the candles of a candelabra, so she has gotten lost a few times.

Why did her mother and father want her to be sent here, of all of the places? She was in a foreign land with foreign people with foreign mannerisms.

A maid groans next to her. "I know that you are homesick, but you really must stop crying!" she complains. "Haven't you ever been away from home before?"

Of course, she has been away from home . . . but not so far that she's ever had to take an airplane – that was a scary experience in itself. And this would be the first time that she would never be able to return home and see her mother again.

She hiccups as a new round of tears sting her eyes.

The maid rolls her eyes. "Oh, not again," she grumbles under her breath.

"Excuse me, Miss Lillian."

"Ah!" The maid whips her head around, shocked. Her eyes widen, and she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. "Miss Selena!" she exclaims in surprise. Ellen immediately looks up, straightening her back and wiping her tears away quickly. "Would you like some water?"

A tall woman is in the doorway, dressed in what Ellen can only describe as an orange and white flight attendant's outfit (though, she has only been on a plane once, and that was to come to this country to work in the Sprocket mansion, so she can't be entirely sure). A pocket watch is in one of her hands while the other is on her hip.

Her auburn eyes are fierce and emotionless. "No, that won't be necessary."

The maid gulps, clearly intimidated. "I-Is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?"

"Yes, actually. I'd appreciate it if you would treat your peer with a little more respect, please. She's travelled from very far and clearly is emotionally distressed. It is your duty as her co-worker to help her adjust to her difficult transition." She looks at her square in the eye – it may not be Ellen that she is reprimanding, but she is still very intimidated by her.

"Yes, ma'am," Lillian's meek voice replies nervously. "I understand."

"Good." Miss Selena nods at her. "You may go back to your duties now." Immediately, the mousy maid scurries away, stumbling on her on feet as she makes her way out of the kitchen.

Miss Selena's eyes soften as they meet Ellen's tearful ones. "Hello, Miss Wyatt."

"H-Hello, madam," she replies quietly, as she looks away from her superior.

"I understand that your parents have recently passed away, and also that you are having a hard time adjusting to the big move, which you had to make because of his passing."

She nods weakly.

"Ellen," Miss Selena says gently, "you may have lost your parents, but you have not lost your family or home. Every member of the Sprocket household is invaluable to us, and, really, we are just a big family. You are our family now. This is now your home just as it is mine."

"Miss Selena . . . "

Miss Selena winks at her, and then her face becomes playfully stern. "Call me Selena, please. Now, back straight and no more tears, young lady. I know it is difficult for you at the moment, but you mustn't lose face like this." She takes a hold of Ellen's hand and leads her into the small washroom in the corner of the kitchen.

Ellen simply follows along, entranced by Selena's charisma.

Selena turns Ellen around to face her, and then reaches into her pocket to pull out a small compact case. "Every servant must serve the Sprocket family with a smile on their face, and they must work happily," she informs her, smiling, as she pats the makeup onto Ellen's face. Then, she applies she brushes some blue eyeshadow onto her eyelids. "And even if you are not feeling happy, at least you should feel confident. And though it is not always necessary, you'd be surprised to learn how much of a confident boost a little makeup can give you. It's quite empowering, actually." When she finishes, she turns Ellen towards the mirror and smiles in satisfaction.

Ellen gapes at her reflection in shock – Selena has transformed her blotchy, tear-streamed face into a gorgeous, delicate porcelain doll. She looks like she could be in the ranks of a Sprocket, rather than one of their servants.

"The color of the eyeshadow complement your skin and eyes nicely," Selena comments amicably. "You'd fare better off with this than me." She slips the small compact of makeup into Ellen's gloved hands.

Ellen gasps, her eyebrows rising in surprise, as she turns to Selena. "Oh, thank you, but I possibly couldn't!"

"Of course, you can! I have a lot more," she insists with a wave of her hand.

"T-Thank you." Ellen then bows her head in shame. "Though I'm afraid that I don't know much about makeup."

Selena's face brightens. "Oh, I must teach you, then!" She claps her hands together once in glee as she speaks. "It's a lot of fun!"

.

Selena spends the rest of the afternoon with Ellen, who completes her household chores, which comes as a surprise – isn't it frowned upon for the daughter of the house to mingle with a servant? With the death glares Ellen has been receiving from the other servants, it appears to be the case.

Whatever the case may be, she enjoys Selena's presence greatly. She has also found that the day is no longer going horridly; she does not miss her parents and home as much as she did before, and she has been engaging in lots of conversation with Selena.

"You know," Selena starts, breaking Ellen out of her thoughts, "I used to do these chores that you do. Washing the dishes, taking care of the laundry . . . I did it by my own choice, too. I wanted to see and learn about the backbone of the household. My father and mother thought I was being foolish, but how are you supposed to take charge of everything if you don't know who you are leading and what has to get done?"

Ellen smiles sincerely. "That's a wonderful and humble idea. I rarely hear of heirs and heiresses doing such a thing." Truth be told, she is very impressed by her humility and her determination. "You went through every stage completely and successfully."

"Yes, but I think cooking is the only thing I was unable to successfully do, though." Selena turns to Ellen with a brilliant smile. "I've heard you are quite the chef. Would you teach me how to cook sometime? I'd like it if my poor boyfriend could not have trouble stomaching my food for once in his life." She laughs.

Oh, this woman is perfect, Ellen realizes, feeling almost envious of her. She even has a boyfriend! Of course, a woman as charismatic and beautiful as her would have a sweetheart of her own.

Ellen, on the other hand, has never even been kissed, let alone having a boyfriend.

"Yes, of course," she replies happily, delighted to be given a chance to spend more time with Selena.

"Excellent! It's a deal, then. I'll teach you about makeup, and you can teach me how to cook." She grins. Then, she reaches over the counter to check her watch for the time.

"If I may, that's a lovely pocket watch, Selena," Ellen comments politely.

Selena smiles sadly. "Thank you, Ellen. It was a parting gift from your mother."

This strikes her as a surprise. "My mother?" she repeats with widened eyes, stunned. "Madam, you knew my mother?"

Selena nods. "Yes. Your mother worked here until I was a little girl. She left when her family arranged her marriage to your father overseas. She gave me the pocket watch before she left." Her voice takes on a wistful tone as she looks down at the pocket watch in her hand for a moment. "I had kept tabs on her, and when I found out about her death, I was so upset. I loved her so much, and wanted to meet her but was never able to before the accident."

"I . . . I didn't know." Ellen has never heard of anything like this before. She knew her mother was from the United States, if her accent wasn't a dead giveaway, but she had refused to ever talk about her life before she married Ellen's father. "My mother never spoke of the Sprocket family. After Mother and Father's accident, I was surprised to hear the family lawyer tell me that I was to come here and work for the Sprocket household at once."

Selena sighs, as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, her eyes downcast. "I confess, Ellen, I'm the one who made arrangements for you to come to the United States." She looks back up, so that her sad eyes meet Ellen's shocked ones. "I'm sorry if I have hurt or deceived you in any way, but I'd be damned if I let Lila's only child live alone and jobless." Her face darkens. "The only way I was allowed to have you come here, though, was as a servant to the Sprockets." She shakes her head, and then places a hand on Ellen's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "But never mind that. Please, Ellen, don't ever feel like you are less than family to me. Your mother was very dear and close to me, and I treated her as a family member, as well. I miss her, too."

"Selena," Ellen begins, tears beginning to form in her eyes, "Thank you for bringing me here."

At first, Ellen was upset, and even angered, to be uprooted from her home and come to this foreign country, with nothing but a bag with a few pairs of clothes, a small bit of money her parents left for her after their passing, and a pair of diamond earrings her mother wore for her wedding day.

But now, she understands. She feels both grateful, for Selena's generosity, and foolish, for looking a gift horse in the mouth like this. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that her small hometown no longer holds a future for her – she truly would have been alone there.

"I'm so grateful for everything you have done. I'm very sorry for all of the trouble you had to take because of me, though." Ellen wipes away her tears and sniffles. "I'm not sure I was worth taking such a step, Selena. L-Look at how my first day has gone – I'm so clumsy and have messed up on so much already!" Her tears come back with a vengeance, streaming down extremely fast.

Selena's eyes widen, as she scrambles to find a pot for Ellen to cry in – Ellen cannot blame her, since, at the rate she is crying, the whole kitchen will flood. A pan appears in her hands a moment later, and she holds it near Ellen so it can hold her incoming stream of tears. As Ellen continues to cry, Selena speaks. "Silly girl. Don't be sorry for anything." She gently smoothens out Ellen's hair with her free hand. "You must learn to love yourself, not hate, and live life to the fullest. Leave this hatred behind. Your time is yours to live."

.

Ellen has just finished serving juice to Madam Sprocket when she first sees the young man with a large handbag walk into the open doors of the mansion, a servant following closely behind, lugging a small attaché.

His slow, inattentive gait suggests aloofness, but sudden tension in air reveals the aura of authority he holds over everyone in the household, which must include Ellen as well.

Don't the fancy upperclassman frown upon wearing hats indoors?

Madam Sprocket immediately rises from the sofa to greet the man, hugging him dearly, as he quietly greets her, "Mother," in such a soft voice that Ellen nearly doesn't hear him.

"Is that man . . . Master Sorin?" she whispers to herself, as her hands wring the hem of her skirt unconsciously.

A maid next to her let out a giggle. "Yes!" she exclaims softly. "He is quite handsome, isn't he?"

Ellen nods slowly as a blush rises to her cheeks. "He is."

His eyes meet hers momentarily, and Ellen feels her breath hitch in response. She feels herself drowning in the cerulean sea of his irises, filled with curiosity and awe. When her eyes finally leave his, however, she is surprised when she takes in the rest of him.

"Is that a rocket he is wearing on his back!?" she exclaims. She's deathly afraid of the thought of flying, barely surviving the plane ride to the United States.

The servant next to her giggles. "Well, the Sprockets do own Sprocket Aviation."

"Really?" She did not realize that the family she is working owned such a major company. How did she not make the connection earlier, considering the surname matches the company name?

The servant frowns. "Yes. You really don't know who you're working for, do you?"

Ellen is about to open her mouth to respond, but the head housekeeper calls her over to assign her some more duties, handing her the small attaché of Master Sorin's that the servant brought into the house. She is to wash, dry, press, and hang Master Sorin's laundry from his trip abroad. She swallows nervously, and before she can dwell on the fact that she will have to go to the young master's room, she quickly tugs on the handle of the small luggage and wheels it to the laundry space.

All goes smoothly until after she walks with the cart full of clean, ironed laundry into Master Sorin's room.

Though the doors are wide open, she knocks both customarily and out of courtesy. As there is no response given, she hesitantly pushes the trolley into his room and walks to his large, walk-in closet – she still can't believe that the rich have room-sized closets! What she has seen in her lifetime in 21 years of living can never compare to what she has seen in a day at the Sprocket Manor. She thought she knew so much about the world, but, oh, how wrong she was.

She hangs the pressed clothing into their proper places, until she gets to the last article of clothing, an expensive-looking, white button down shirt. It has been slightly rumpled at the hem, which elicits a small groan out of her. The wrinkles are clearly visible, and it would be unacceptable for her to leave it the way it is. Her eyes scan the area in search of anything that could be of use to her, but then she spies an iron in the cart. Oh, thank the heavens!

She plugs its wire into the socket near his bed, but as she looks at the settings, confusion washes over her. What would be the best setting to use for the material of the shirt? There are only symbols labeling each feature. The press she used back home was much simpler in use, its settings clearly labeled with words. She didn't want to embarrass herself or trouble another maid by asking for help, either. After five minutes of inspection and educated thinking, she decides to turn the knob all the way to the left, as most of them operate the same way on irons, in which the temperature gets lower as you turn it to the left, and it gets higher as you turn it to the right.

Her logic appears to be sound as the iron works fine, at first, until she smells the horrible scent of burning. Her eyes widen as she lifts the implement from the hem of the shirt to reveal a large, angry brown scorch mark from the press. She gasps in surprise, immediately shutting off the iron and lifting up the shirt. Her fingers trace over the seared fabric as she cries to herself, "Oh, no!" Now she has done it!

"I would like to rest, please," a faint voice requests outside of the room, in the hallway. "Please, do not disturb me for the rest of the day. Tell my mother that I will be down at dinnertime." Ellen resists the urge to cry out. Master Sorin had returned! Oh, this day is taking a sharp turn for the worst. What is she going to do? She can't go back out! He's going to see her and realize it was her who ruined his shirt. Oh, but where can she hide?! She looks around the room frantically, until her eyes spy the beautiful, detailed, gold drapes that frame his windows. In a desperate moment of madness, she jumps towards them and wraps herself into the curtains, shielding herself from view, shirt in hand. It's just in time, as she hears light footsteps into the room.

"A laundry cart?" she hears him say to himself in confusion. Bravely, she peeks at him from the edge of the curtain, as he looks around for a maid. But there is none, so he cleverly touches the side of the press that she left on his bed. "It's hot." And then his fingers stroke the gold comforter. Seeing this, she quickly retreats back into the curtain, realizing that the iron must have branded a mark into the comforter as well, which is what he smartly realized.

Her heart is pounding loudly in her chest – from fear or from her eyes nearly drowning his again? She's not quite sure. She holds his shirt close to her chest and revels in its silkiness. And then it finally strikes her that there is a way to remove the scorch mark from the shirt, though she will need to act fast. And she will need to find some bleach. She just needs to slip away from the room without him noticing . . .

It's too late, now, though. He's coming close to the window. She will have to simply pray he does not look behind the curtains, so that she can quickly and quietly make her escape and remove the burn mark. So she simply prays, and screws her eyes shut.

But it seems that the heavens are not on her side today, as she feels the slight breeze of the curtain being pulled back.

"What is going on here?" a low, but stern voice demands.

"I'm sorry! I am so, so sorry!" she cries, her eyes still squeezed shut, praying that the tears don't spill – it would look so incredibly bad in front of him, especially on her first day of working at the manor (it was bad enough that she cried in front of Miss Selena). "I didn't mean to burn your shirt!"

She doesn't see his eyes widen in surprise, as the young man takes in the frantic, panicking mess of the girl. "You," he murmurs in awe, taking step towards her.

Her eyes open slowly, meeting a pair of cerulean ones. She vaguely registers the burnt shirt slipping from her fingers.

"You are the girl from before."

"Before?" she mumbles, still unable to move her confused eyes from his soft once. That is, until when she realizes who she is in front of again, as her eyes widen and she lets out a gasp. "M-Master Sorin! I'm so sorry! The iron was much hotter than I expected - "

He holds up a hand and shakes his head. "No, it's alright."

"But your shirt – "

"Forget the shirt, please," he insists quietly, with a nonchalant, short wave of the hand he raised before. "What is your name?"

"E-Ellen. Ellen Wyatt, sir," she answers timidly.

"Ellen," he repeats in a soft murmur, a small, endearing smile slowly spreading across his face.

.

Sorin jolts awake from his nightmarish memories of the accident, or so she presumes, as his eyes fly open, while crying, "Selena!"

He looks around anxiously and becomes aware of his senses. He then looks to the side where his notebook sits on his bedside table, and reaches out for it.

Her thin fingers grasp his wrist, though, to stop him. "Sorin," her soft voice calls out in the darkness.

He wrenches up from his bed and, blindly, immediately wraps his arms around her body. "E-Ellen?" he whispers back.

Ellen closes her eyes for a moment as she melts into his embrace. "I'm not supposed to be here," she murmurs softly, blinking back tears. "Mr. Nichody is outside keeping watch. I cannot stay for long."

He blinks. "Pierce?"

His eyes flicker to her hand, and her heart sinks as she realizes what thoughts run through his mind.

He doesn't remember ever putting his paternal grandmother's ring on her finger.

She needs to leave from here, before she breaks down in front of him – he can't see her like that. "I must go." She leans down to kiss his forehead sweetly. "Sweet dreams, Sorin. I love you."

"W-Wait, Ellen!" It hurts Ellen to ignore him, but she runs out of his room regardless, refusing to take another glance back at him.

Mr. Nichody greets her outside with a curt nod. After he steps into Sorin's room and shuts the door, she feels her knees give in, and then, she collapses to the floor and cries.


End file.
